The Art of Gift Giving
by redtaxi
Summary: Sherlock is not terribly comfortable with gift giving as Molly finds out. Sherlolly.


A shotty little one-shot with no real purpose.

Set in a established Sherlolly universe.

* * *

It was a Thursday night, alike to every other.

And as the evening tradition goes, as soon as the takeaway boxes are discarded and the last of Molly's red is eagerly finished, the two take to the sofa, legs sprawled out in their own space with books in their laps.

Sherlock had just turned a page when Molly lazily spoke out of the silence.

"Is it normal for your clients to give you gifts?"

He chose to ignore the question, the forming lines of the Household's Guide to Horticulture [preparation for his next case] hummed over his thoughts. _The cultivation for groves seedlings best occurs during seasonal patterns of heavy rain._

"It's lovely but in lieu of payment-" She spoke again, much to the annoyance of the man beside her.

He turns another page before he'll indulge her fancy.

"Molly-what ever are you babbling about?" He mutters quietly.

It is the sound of her book, falling to the floor, that alerts him to her. His mind tries not to jump at the sight of her bright eyes.

"Do your clients usually pay you in jewelry?"

Before he can feign his ignorance at her question, Molly holds up her arm where the gem bracelet he had given her, the night before, under the impression of 'making use of a client's generosity', now sat prettily around her wrist.

He gives 'the innocent fool' act a go. "I prefer more traditional means of payment, so _no_."

He returns to his book, hoping that Molly will do the same.

Of course, he's hardly surprised when the sofa dips, with her edging closer towards him.

"I mean-It's hardly a good alternative-how do you make a bank deposit with this?"

The Household Guide to Horticulture is chucked carelessly into his lap, as his hands run up to push through his hair irritably.

"Don't you like it?" He asks coldly.

He watches her inspect the bracelet, his mask of complete indifference was in place, despite the knowing tell of his fingers, tapping nervously against his thigh.

She scrunches up her nose in distaste but the game is given away by the teasing smile, held over her lips.

_She's mocking me. _Sherlock picks up his book again, roughly turning back to his lost page.

"What was John's share, then? From the case."

He's purposely harsh this time, all in the hope of scaring her off. "He didn't get a bracelet, if that's what you're inquiring after."

"No-strange enough- John told me that you split the check you got."

_Oh god, she knows. _Sherlock, taken aback by her answer, turns his head slowly to Molly.

"Did he?" His eyelids flutter in a last attempt to appear innocent.

"Yes." She's closer, legs unfolded from underneath her, are now tangled next to his. "Yes, he did." She softly repeats, looking up into his face.

He's determined not to budge under her gaze, sparing her any satisfaction or triumph over him, all the while his pulse races wildly.

Perhaps, he thought too highly of his subtlety in gift giving. It was truly stupid to believe that Molly wouldn't catch his ploy, in giving her a 'gift' under false pretenses, all in the attempt to avoid the normal tripe sentiments, that usually accompanied such a gesture.

"I suspect that-that would be more suitable for him." Sherlock says diplomatically but by her widening grin, he concedes that defeat had already come. _Oh damn, she knows. _

"You told me that Mr. Harrison gave it to you."

"-Indirectly. He provided the funds-I only made the purchase." His brisk mutterings are masked behind his book, the prop held up high to hide the shameful rush of red over his face. _Hopeless._

"You fibbed about the bracelet."

"I did not."

He's made aware of a sudden warmth to his chest, as he pulls away the book, to find Molly's hands, scattered over his chest and thigh.

With a lazy smile, she murmurs, "Kiss me."

"No."

Neither of them expected to hear that but however absent minded it was, fueled by his embarrassment, the word fell from his lips before Sherlock could reclaim it.

Molly doesn't pull away instantly, though her hands fall back into her lap, the immediate absence of her warmth cools him quicker than he imagined.

She still smiles lazily at him, while she reaches underneath the sofa to retrieve her book.

He dejectedly returns to his own, though he's become more suspicious of her silence now. _It's only a gift. Not an overreaching proclamation of sentiment. Oh why should you care now!  
_  
Before the argument in his mind can suspend further into remorse, Sherlock abruptly leans forward to take Molly's face in hand, his lips eagerly searching for hers in a mad rush.

He holds her there, the warmth of her mouth spreading a new flame over his cheeks.

Just as he's about to sink further into her, his arms threading up her body to rest around her waist, inching her closer, she pulls back.

"You should get paid in chocolate, next time. I like chocolate".

He's quick to cover her mouth again, aggressively kissing her back but his heart jolts as he hears her blissfully sigh against his lips, "But I much prefer this-"

* * *

Thank you for reading!


End file.
